


Rimmy Tim; a Useless Gay

by mthrfkrgdhrwego (universalchampbalor)



Series: Six Idiot Children with Guns [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, M/M, Making Out, Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Lovers, ask to tag, the vagabond knits i dont make the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 19:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13173996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchampbalor/pseuds/mthrfkrgdhrwego
Summary: After a heist gone wrong, Jeremy and the Vagabond were holed up in a safehouse out in the sticks. Jeremy didn't anticipate how hard that would be.





	Rimmy Tim; a Useless Gay

“So there’s only one bed, but it’ll work. I’ll see about going into town for an air mattress.” Jeremy sighed. The bag in his hand, stuffed with weapons and loosely taped bills, thumped to the ground.

“It’s fine. I’ll take the couch.” The Vagabond grumbled. His voice was thick with smoke, like gravel spilling over his tongue. The hairs on Jeremy’s neck stood on edge.

“Okay. Um, do you want to shower first? You’re a little more worse for wear than I am.” Jeremy offered. He was covered in dirt, and his purple blazer had blood stains along the arms. Vagabond, however, was covered in blood, both his and that of cops and guards. There was a bullet hole through his right shoulder. His face paint was smeared, and his hair was just _atrocious._

He gave a curt nod and shuffled to the bathroom, tossing his jacket on the dusty couch.  
++  
Almost an hour later, Vagabond returned to the living room. Jeremy was sitting on the couch, his (thankfully bullet-free) laptop on his lap. He was chatting with Gavin, letting him know their situation.

“You can have the shower. There might not be a lot of hot water left.” He said, voice right behind Jeremy. He whirled around, his heart racing at the sudden sound.

_Oh._

Vagabond was wearing a towel slung low on his hips, another tossed around his broad shoulders. His long dark hair was down, hanging around his waist. Beads of water clung to his muscular chest, clumping around scars and divots.

And his _face_.

This was the first time Jeremy saw Vagabond’s face bare. His features were surprisingly soft. His lips were plush and stained red, a thin scar breaking his upper lip. His nose was crooked, and angry red cut across his nose bridge. His eyes- _his eyes_ \- were gorgeous. His right one was a soft, icy blue that worked surprisingly well with his tan skin and blonde roots. His left one was a deep, bright green that glowed under his lids. Black was still ringed around his eyes, stuck to his long lashes.

Instead of saying something like, “Holy shit I’m in love with you,” Jeremy settled on saying, “You have some white paint on your lip,” and running as soon as he saw the pad of Vagabond’s thumb drag across his lower lip.

Jeremy has never been so glad for a lack of hot water.  
++  
It was Hell. Winter in the desert was surprisingly cold. Every night, they bundled up with blankets and went to sleep; Jeremy on the bed, Vagabond on the couch.

The arrangement worked for a long few days, until it didn’t.

Jeremy woke up at 3 am, to the blue darkness of the desert night, with a pair of cold, cold feet pressed to his leg. He realized with a jolt that it was the Vagabond.

He was _freezing_ , hands and toes like ice pressed against Jeremy’s skin. His breath, hot and damp, beat against his neck. Even though the Vagabond was a large man- 6’7 and ‘sculpted from marble’ was an understatement- he was curled around Jeremy, feeling more like a child and less like a mercenary with a body count in the triple digits- or higher.

He was already out, not quite snoring- it was more like heavy, contented breathing. He seemed… calm. The seemingly permanent crease between his eyebrows was smoothed, and his lips were relaxed flat and parted. His eyelashes were casting gentle shadows on his high cheekbones. Jeremy had the half-formed thought that the Vagabond would make a good model.

It took another two hours for Jeremy to fall asleep, a feat only accomplished when the Vagabond got out of bed at 5 am. Even then, the phantom feeling of icicle fingers wrapped around Jeremy’s tattoo kept his mind _racing_.

He dreamed of dichromatic eyes and a whiskey sharp voice like sunshine on gravel.  
++  
They spent a few _long_ weeks in the sticks.

The Vagabond was a quiet, curious man. He would sit next to Jeremy, usually silent, watching as the younger man either spoke with their crew or sketched impossible scenes impossibly quickly.

His biggest surprise was that the Vagabond knit.

When Jeremy went into town, a beanie over his Rimmy Tim themed hair, Vagabond asked for three things; diet coke, yarn, and size seven knitting needles.

For one fleeting moment, Jeremy feared Vagabond was going to kill him with _knitting needles_ , of all things, but the thought left as quickly as it came.

After that, Jeremy would work on his sketches, sitting next to an unbelievably attractive mercenary, knitting a scarf with needles that suddenly became weapons in his hands.

It was oddly comforting, knowing the Vagabond wouldn’t hurt him.  
++  
“Ryan.”

They were watching TV on Jeremy’s laptop, some dumb show found in the recesses of Netflix. The Vagabond was curled under two heavy blankets, knees drawn to his chest. His lids were heavy, drooping over his irises, the colors muted with exhaustion. His voice was laden with sleep. His hair was pulled into a loose, frizzy ponytail, fanned over the back of the couch.

“What?” Jeremy asked, voice colored with confusion. The name Vagabond proffered came, seemingly, from nowhere, unrelated to their show. Jeremy racked his mind, wondering if the name belonged to a mark, a supplier, or a rival.

“My name. It’s Ryan.” Vagabond said again, head thumping against Jeremy’s shoulder. The shorter man was wearing only his tank top, so the soft feeling of Vagabond’s- no, _Ryan’s-_ hair, paired with the rough sandpaper of his skin and stubble was pressed to Jeremy’s bare skin.

“Cool. Can I get a last name, or do I have to wait until another date to get that?” Jeremy joked, the words half catching in his throat. He was either making a huge mistake or a wonderful choice.

Vaga- Ryan huffed out a laugh, breath warm and wet against Jeremy’s neck. “I think we’re missing the first date, unless the ruined heist counts.” He mumbled, curling further into Jeremy’s side.

Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat. “It counts if you want it to.” He mumbled. He cursed how awkward it sounded tumbling from his lips. He hadn’t dated anyone, _thought of dating anyone_ , since high school, since Kat, which went. Well, it went bad. He needed to up his game.

Ryan looked up at him, dichromatic eyes almost glowing in the shitty light of the safehouse living room. He looks gorgeous like this. There are slight bruises under his eyes, a scar forming across his nose, and a deep canyon through his top lip. His hair was frizzy and falling out of his ponytail, the blonde roots creeping just lower than usual. There was no paint on his face, not even the smallest remnant. “It’s Haywood.”

Jeremy leaned down.

His nose bumped into Ryan’s cheek, crushed uncomfortably between them. His neck was cramping from the angle, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Ryan’s lips were soft against his own, plush and waiting and wet. They were parted just slightly, maybe from surprise, his teeth hitting Jeremy’s lip.

Surprisingly, Ryan kissed back. He was pushing back, almost crawling into Jeremy’s lap. His fingers were digging into the crest of Jeremy’s traps, sharp nails biting against his skin. And _fuck_ , did it feel good, the weight of him settled across his thighs, the slow drag of his hips, the pinch of his grip, the sting of his teeth digging into Jeremy’s lower lip.

Jeremy almost felt like he could come in his pants.

His laptop pinging loudly, God Save the Queen blasting from his speakers. They both started, Ryan falling from his lap. He landed hard on the floor, looking startled and absolutely _wrecked._ His lips were _red_ , spit-slick and kiss-swollen, parted as he panted. His hair was ruffled and messed from Jeremy’s fingers. He was hard, pushing against the worn seam of his joggers.

He scrambled for Jeremy’s laptop and answered the call. Gavin’s face popped on screen, the lad grinning from ear to ear with a busted lip and a missing tooth. His sunglasses, bent just out of shape, were sat atop his head.

“You’re lucky you don’t kill my hard on. If you were here, I’d rip out your spine and shove it up your ass. Only call if it’s an emergency.” He barked, his Vagabond voice coming out. It was rougher, harder, deeper. It went straight to Jeremy’s dick. Ryan hung up without another word and stood, pushing Jeremy flat onto the couch.

He grinned a feral grin, teeth sharp and glinting in the light. Jeremy’s throat ached. Ryan settled over his thighs, hands landing on Jeremy’s pecs.

“Now, where were we?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm faahc on tumblr! Come bug me!


End file.
